Cold as Stone
by lunanoel
Summary: This is the story of what happened between Russia and Prussia following WW II up untill 1989. How torture turned to love, then to what it is now... Slash, Angst, etc. Human and country names. WILL get lighter! Not historical, just convenient timeing.
1. Chapter 1

Hello there! This is my first fiction! Well… not really. If you've read Cellphone Drabbles I play the countries aside my friend Lumina. But this is my first solo flight. I realize I'm kind of taking a leap by starting in such a serious way, but this story demanded to be written.

Inspired from chapter 12 of drabbles, which I suggest looking at In my profile for just a touch of pre-back story. **WARNING INCLUDE!**: **Torture**. Blood, knives, whips, Chinese water torture, you name it. Probably some bondage, depending if the mood strikes me. **ANGST** , Russia is not a happy happy rainbows kinda guy, nor is Prussia. Expect blood and tears before the end. ** SLASH! **because I just love a rainbow sandwich in the morning.

Due to FF's psychotic limits there won't be any straight out smut scenes but I will go as far as I can in the rules. If there's a really big out cry for it, ill upload the entire story to AFF. I will be explaining EXACTLY what time this is and where etc, for those wanting to know. This **WILL BE** **SLASH! Boyxboy yaoi loving time! **If you don't like it, get out. I didn't make you read from here below, so take your bonfire elsewhere. This is probably the longest AN you're going to get so fear not :) I really hope you like Cold as Stone, and that my writing entertains you. Enjoy! Kryoto out!

(**HUGE Spoiler** AN on the pairing at the end, so skip if you don't want to know. Trust me, it is NOT what you might expect…)

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There was a harsh sense of life to the man, despite his paleness. Even in unconscious and in chains he maintained more fight and viciousness than any of his own soldiers on the field. This was a man who had slaughtered millions in the name of his god, then countless more for his brother's country. Ruby blood had stained more than those hidden eyes. It trailed behind the albino in a vicious trail, leaving nothing but death and horror in his footsteps. They framed the centuries since the Prussian duchy's creation in a shroud of copper scented roses.

Despite this damming history he seemed nothing more than innocent. If he had not heard countless stories of Prussia's conquests and cruelty from his sister, he would have thought the man an angel. Near white hair reminiscent of a bird's downy feathers lay to his upon his head. Snowy skin more suited for a prosaic princess than a war leader peaked from tears in the deep blue uniform. The only sign that this was not a heavenly being before him was the steady stream of crimson trailing from the mans temple to chin. It only functioned to bring stark notice to what this man really was.

A demon amongst demons.

The crimson came from a gash on the man's head just above his ear. Created by a young soldiers last act, landing a blow with his rifles butt as an enemy's own was fired into his skull. He could admit, if only to himself, that he had trained his men well. Many called his methods cruel, to the edges of torture. What kind of twisted loyalty is bred from harsh punishment and scarce reward? It was a testament to his training that they would sacrifice their lives for an only whispered order. '_Bring me the red eyed man…'_

And so they had, and here he was. Bloodied and cold in the dungeons hidden beneath Königsberg, he hung. His Prussian blue uniform torn and dirty, pale hands chained together and above his head. Anything that could be possibly construed as a weapon striped from his person. There was no escape or aid to be found within the walls of this compound for someone of his ilk. Finally, after all these years of coveted stories and distant admiration, he would discover the truth and settle the score. Who was the real demon?

Violet eyes met opening blood red in the flickering of torch light.

_Hello Gilbert…_

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Its done! Chapter one! Bit short, but just the start! Alright, here goes that pairing spoiler!

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DRUM ROLL IF YOU PLEASE!

DomRUSSIAxSwitchPRUSSIAxSubC anada! Oh yeah, I went threesome on this beasty! Canada won't come in for a looong while, so you can get used to the Prussia in the mean time. (any good pairing name for that? O.o) Thanks for reading! Chap two coming up soon!


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own hetalia, and I think all those that served in WW II are heros, thank you for reading chapter 2.**

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Russia entered the cell the same way he had for the last year. He unclipped the key from the industrial ring on his hip and placed it into the lock. his snowy and graceful hand reached and slipped the restricting chunk of metal into the pocket of his crisp slacks. The un-oiled hinges swung in and squealed loudly in pseudo silence of the dungeons. Once it completed is arc the only sound that remained was that off the staccato drip of water, and the harsh breathing of the prisoner. A fair amount of rust fluttered down from the top of the iron frame yet none landed on the pale hair of the equally pale man.

Against the wall the Prussian man still hung in the same way he had since the day before , and the one before that. The only sign that he was not simply a mirage was the harsh rise and fall of his chest. The ragged breathing was punctuated by wet coughs, followed by murmured curses. The blood running down the man's chest and over the now uneven ridges of his ribs highlighted the damage that had been wrought upon him.

Ivan silently marveled at the endurance this being had shown. No man should have been able to take so much abuse for so long and not break. It wasn't possible!

But no, he had to remind himself, This was no man. No man had seen and done the things this… creature had. It was the curse of those chosen to represent their countries. They could walk among their people. They could talk, and celebrate, and hate along with them in equal fervor. Belonging, though, was out of their reach. Never could they truly feel as they do and think as they do. Eternity comes at the high cost of humanity.

They all knew they would outlive their people by a millennia. How could they ever be expected to dredge up enough emotion to truly commit to something so fleeting? He himself had raged against the confines of this new dictator. How dare he believe himself the better of someone who had lived long before the idea of prejudice had even existed! It was an experiment in futility to believe you could ever completely rule a people. The human element can never be completely subdued by meager self righteousness and hate. Lord knows he had tried…

Take the man before him. How hard had he tried to forget the look given to him as he left after his daily beating. The expectance and… forgiveness! How, after everything he had done and taken from this once strong man could he be forgiven? Did someone like him even deserve forgiveness?

If this man, this demon, could feel such emotions for him, what did it mean that he felt none?

Every day he beat, and broke, and destroyed more of this tainted soul. And equal darkness to his own was bound and subdued to the point of becoming something it never could again be. Gilbert never made a sound of protest, he never pleaded. Never once did a word come from his mouth but screams when the pain became too much. Somehow, to Ivan, even these seemed empty and illusory.

Ivan had never felt anything but satisfaction when retching screams from his victims. But As Gilbert cried out for the first time that day, for the first time in his long, long, existence he felt…. Like a true monster.

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Ivan looked down at the bleeding man before him. Being held off the ground by nothing but his chains, the once strong man looked feeble and broken. White hair liberally streaked with dirt, muck and pure filth. Pale flesh colored in a mural of purple and the sickly yellow of healing bruses. His only remaining clothing being the same military slacks he had entered in, torn to rags. To see the power he had over this unstoppable man was humbling. If one like this Prussian could be broken, then so could he.

Physically, he knew the man would heal someday. As long as their countrymen continued to labor on, so would they be forced to do the same. If left alone, within a week there would be no sign of the torture this pristine body had gone through. The thought that Gilbert could forget him sent a thrill of jealousy and possessiveness through the Russian.

Ivan had let no one but himself touch Prussia. Poland had almost gotten his hands on the man, but Ivan was able to gain both halves of this ethereal creature. He knew that someday, he would have to return him to his brother, or someone else, but he would not do so without a fight. He had invested so much of himself into the treatment and molding of this man that he did not know where his hatred began and his covetousness ended. Every emotion he felt through the day was reflected in the canvas of this body.

The dark purple of a bruise was the anger he felt at the USSR, and its damnable leaders. The whip scores being the pain he felt when one of his people died from starvation and sickness in the wake of the war. And the deep cuts and gouges were his despicable fear that he was not enough. That he did not have enough power, people, and land to secure a future for them all.

His captive seemed to know this. When the lashes fell he did not flinch in fear of the pain, but took it as it was, a way to keep the Russian sane and able to help those that needed it. When the cuts were coupled with the extra pain of salt water tears he said not a word. So many others would have mocked him and taken the small break of composure as a life line. Not this beast of man.

It was only understood between daemons. It did not matter what it was or who it was, as long as it bled. You did not feel anything towards them but anger as you branded their wrongs on their skin. You did not ask for forgiveness, nor did you give it. There was no sorrow or regret. Never did you feel anything but fury… But yet…

Why then, when he looked into those hellfire eyes so full of hatred tainted compassion, did he wish for something softer? Something infinitely sweeter than hatred, yet just as sharp. Why did he, as he brought the whip down for and indefinite time that day, did he say those words…

_I'm sorry…_

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**K- Wow… just wow. Im so overwhelmed right now. I can't even think let alone make an author's note… I hope you liked it, or at least didn't hate it. Someone told me they would would "curse me to death" in the reviews if this was PruCan. First of all Nitwit, get over yourself. You don't get to decide what the pair is, despite the fact I clearly explained what it would be in the first chapter. And curse to death, really? Lame. Some creativity would be appreciated. Despite the guests rather rude comment I hape you enjoy this **newest chapter :D

Sorry for any spelling and grammer mistakes as I don't have a beta.

POSITIVE reviews would be greatly appreciated along with any suggestions you have. Bye and thanks agian!


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